


blind spot

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Community: summerpornathon, M/M, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's fine cloth, well-woven, soft, strong, and dyed a dark enough blue that it's nearly black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blind spot

Merlin fingers the edge of the cloth, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, and runs the length over the palm of his hand. It's fine cloth, well-woven, soft, strong, and dyed a dark enough blue that it's nearly black.

It'll knot well.

Anticipation flutters through Merlin's stomach and chest and his heart beats a little faster, his breath comes a little quicker as the cloth tickles over his palm. He hadn't expected to be offered this when Arthur first asked him: a length of fine, dark cloth, Arthur before him, head slightly bowed and skin already warm with arousal.

He thinks, perhaps, he expected the steadiness and sureness that Arthur demonstrates on the practice field, the confidence that keeps his senses attuned and his steps certain.

Here, in the mellow light of the banked fire of his bedchamber, the only certainty he shows is in his need. His fingers trembled slightly when he handed Merlin the cloth; his lips parted, damply, around a murmured 'please' and he gasped when Merlin tugged the cloth from his hands. Now he stands, taut with anticipation, his back to Merlin, while Merlin examines the blindfold. Only when Merlin wraps the cloth over his eyes to tie and tighten the knot, does he let out a pleased sigh.

Arthur raises his hand, as if to touch the cloth bound over his eyes, then lets it fall and turns his head to the left. "Merlin?"

"Hush," Merlin whispers against Arthur's neck. "Wait here."

Arthur turns toward Merlin again when he slips away and there's a faint smile on his parted lips. His toes curl against the cold floor and the flush over his skin is just visible through the thin material of his night shift. He's quiet and still while Merlin pads around the room to ready himself for bed, but the flush never leaves his body and he's already hard when Merlin returns to him.

He touches Arthur on the shoulder, presses his lips to the skin-warmed linen of his shift, and kisses him again and again until Arthur's body strains towards his. Later, Merlin will ask him if it's the helplessness of not seeing, of needing to be led to the bed and onto the sheets, of not knowing when Merlin will come to him and touch him, that brings such a surge of arousal through his body. Later. Someday. Maybe. Maybe not, Merlin thinks, and smooths the palm of his hand down Arthur's chest to his stomach and strokes lightly. Maybe it's the silence, too, the unspoken expectation of his desire, that warms his blood.

Arthur gasps at the sudden brush of Merlin's mouth against his, making the kiss clumsy and wet, and leans forward just as Merlin leans away. His hands curl around Merlin's arms and slide around to his back, skimming Merlin's skin with so careful a touch that it is if he doesn't already know the curve of Merlin's spine. A soft sound escapes his lips when Arthur realizes that Merlin's naked, and another when Merlin leans into the kiss again and murmurs something wordless against Arthur's mouth to halt Arthur's exploration of his bare skin.

It isn't that Merlin doesn't love this--Arthur's hesitant touch, the wonder and arousal that light his face, the press of his cock, hot and hard against Merlin's thigh as his hands slip lower--but that he loves to be touching Arthur more. He loves how his rough kisses draw gasps from Arthur's mouth and his quick fingers bring Arthur to full, hard, needy arousal. His cock twitches against Merlin's hand, leaves a wet spot on his shift, and tents the linen as Merlin's hand moves away to nudge him toward the bed.

He loves the newness between them, the neediness in Arthur's expression and the dependence. Merlin loves how Arthur has to wait for him, silent and impatient, while he climbs onto the bed and kisses his way from the inside of one ankle to the crook of his knee to tip of his cock. He loves how when Arthur comes, it's without any restraint, without any inhibition.

And Merlin loves, how when he comes, all over Arthur's flushed, blond body, a length of sweat-damp dark cloth in his hand, it's the only thing that he lets Arthur see.


End file.
